You Never Know When Someone Is Watching
by fluppy
Summary: What if there was one vampire who believed themself the ruler of them all, Volturi included? And what if that vampire sometimes decided to interfere - for better or worse? Warning; chapters are drabble length.
1. Chapter 1

I am the original, the creator, the first of our kind. Although I haven't physically verified this fact I feel certain of it. I can trace every known one of our species back to me, back to my first creations. I was there when the Druids reigned over the British Isles, I watched as Christ was nailed to the cross, I listened to Nero's maniacal fiddling as Rome burned. I heard the stories of Qin Shi Huang, was a herald at the battle of Agincourt, fought in both America's war of independence, then their civil war. I acted as body guard for the lovely Eleanor of Aquitaine, the only human to refuse my gift. It was I who changed Aro, overwhelmed as I was by his beauty, and I have watched over him since, alternately pleased and disappointed, seen his lethargy destroy the glory I believed his perfection would bring. Carlisle Cullen owes his existence to a moment of desperation, one of the few periods in time when humans were much more aware of our kind. I watch over all my children, at various times. Sometimes I feel the need to intervene. Like now.


	2. Observing

I watch the group through narrowed eyes. So gentile, so suave, so fake. Always fake. There are so few genuine people. I tend now to choose those who attract me in some way, as apposed to those I can believe in. Aro, for example. He floats through the crowd, charming, enticing. Hauntingly beautiful. My latest conquest.

Maybe even my latest victim. I'm indecisive.

I spare a brief glance for the man beside Aro. Marcus. His friend, occasional lover. Yet another uninspiring soul.

However...another intriguing idea.

It would be entertaining to watch these two over time. Aro in particular...such _possibilities_.

Even in his human form he has such grace, such presence. Every person in the room flocks to him; looks to him as their leader, lowly soldier though he is. In the same way they avoid me, for reasons unknown to them; they are drawn to him, lured in.

There is so little to captivate me here. The Coliseum holds small appeal; I am quite capable of massacring my own Christians, ironic as that would be. The Roman determination to expand, while admirable, is obviously doomed to eventual failure. The minor intrigues of Roman politicians invariably lead to murder.

I long for something more substantial.

The transformation of Aro has certain benefits.

An eternity of puppeteering.

That would make for a pleasant pastime.


	3. Carlisle

I have had my fill of medieval Europe and their superstitions. I have had enough of this hole I am stuck in with some of my less..._interesting_ creations. I am forced to continue using _latin_, a language I have spoken for more years than I can count and wish a break from. Isolated from the opportunity to seek out other pursuits, from observing and playing my games.

I listen carefully to the noises above my head; the crass words, the screaming. Everyday life. Something I am excluded from.

I consider Stefan and Vladimir, my Romanian friends, sitting idly on their thrones. Ah, that was a time of fun. Leisure, depravation, violence...interesting things.

This hole....

Darkness covers the land above us. I choose this moment to make my escape.

All the time below ground has muted my senses; I see a mob approaches.

No matter how many there are they won't stop me, I am desperate for escape. I bite the first one, the leader, the blonde shiny god, take a few others along with me for snacks.

It's a long journey to Volterra.


	4. Dear Reader

Let me tell you a little more about myself, Dear Reader. I am the original vampire; that you know. But what else do you know about me? Precious little, after all. You know I have lived a long time; a painfully long, dreary time.

You know I changed Aro, Marcus, Carlisle. I wanted to change my dear Eleanor, my friend.

What you don't know...could fill a thousand books.

I will let you in on just one secret, something you must have wondered; do I have a gift, any gift?

Of course I do. Because I was the first, the trial run if you may, I have gifts. Yes, I said _gifts_, plural.

My favorite...you could never know who I am, reader. I could be your friend, a stranger on the street. I have no need of contacts. When I was..._born_, if you like, I had the crimson eyes of all vampires. Well, excluding those who view _animals_ as a form of sustenance; although that was the original plan. I digress.

I say I could be anybody, because I could. My foremost gift, the one that gives me the most pleasure - I am _changeable_.

I don't like the term shape shifter; that implies something completely different. Besides, a shape shifter can shift into one thing only. I can be anything. Or more precisely anyone.

That old man shuffling down the street?

That could be me.

The beautiful girl you saw at the nightclub?

That could be me, too.

Nobody knows this secret, not human or vampire. Except now for you.

Another secret, a hint if you will, as to my true identity? I am a woman.

I bet that will surprise you, after all I have the bloodthirsty tendencies of any coarse barbarian.

But female I am, though obviously not puny and pathetic as most others of my gender.

More of my secrets...well they will have to wait, I'm afraid.

Until you know more of my stories.


	5. My Lovely Eleanor

It may seem my story takes the oddest twists and turns, flitting from here, flying to there. It is how I think, how I live. Each piece of my puzzle. Each delicate strip of memory. Each moment in time that has had the most bearing on me, that affects me now.

And has changed the course of my beliefs.

It all started with my Eleanor.

I still see her as mine, even though she is hundreds of year's dead, her body no more than dust.

Before her, I was…unhappy with my sex. I had not found a woman of any particular value, and I had met many. I had crossed the seas endless times, searching for some meaning. There were plenty of strong women, harsh women, but none with the same kind of…you would call it selfishness; I call it self preservation…as myself. Oh, there are many women noted for their heroic or legendary deeds, some of them are laughable to me, others…humorous in other ways. Joan of Arc, for example. She was a lovely girl, for all intents and purposes, and capable beyond compare to girls of her age. However far too believing of 'higher powers', which swayed her views, led her away from her true self. I scoff at 'higher powers'.

Until Eleanor…and later, Isabella of France…I doubted any other woman such as me existed.

It was more than exquisite to find Eleanor, as a young woman, barely 15, newly arrived at the French court I was currently inhabiting. I had plans to leave, to travel elsewhere, in the hopes that I would find someone worthy, as I had not been able for too many years. She had been recently wed to the just deceased Kings son and heir, and she seemed ready to overthrow all who crossed her path, to take life into her own hands. For the shortest while, her new husband agreed, but he was another such man who believed in God and his power…

When her dear husband decided on crusade…she saw not a chance to overthrow the infidels (another term I find great amusement in) but an adventure, under the guise of piety. She even spoke at large about the benefits of crusade, and later, in her rooms, she spoke to me of the benefits of her queenship, the ability to lead where only fools would follow.

She had already tired of Louis, felt little if nothing for her two daughters. It was not long after she met Henry, the second duke of Normandy.

Oh, I know she thought he was handsome, and more than that, as sexually charged as she was herself, but it was his possibilities and expectations that intrigued her the most. To be the only woman to sit on the thrones of England and France? That was what drew her to propose to him – something entirely unheard of in that time.

And later…when he threatened to take away her power…she turned his own sons against him. She refused my gift only because she feared she would tire of the joys of her power, something she swore she could not bear. She truly was marvelous to me.

She still is.

I see the same strength of character in another, waiting to be molded.

Waiting for my hand.


	6. Renesmee Carlie Cullen

Renesmee Carlie Cullen.

I stand across a field, unobserved by any, just another inhuman face in a sea of inhuman faces.

My first glimpse of she in whom I sense the greatest power, the greatest purpose I have seen in the longest time.

It fairly radiates from her half human skin, shines out of her brown eyes.

Greatness.

Now, greatness can come in many forms. Most do not accept this as general knowledge. For the average living, or not exactly living, creature greatness means goodness. But these two things are not exclusive. Goodness can most assuredly be a sign of greatness, but so can evil.

I, myself, am great.

It is not something I merely believe, as some do. It is fact. I have been written of, though by that time, I was much older than any would believe me to be.

Later you will know me truly, and you will understand, at least in part.

For now, take my word as it is. I am great.

I was created from greatness.

Am I good or evil? I have yet to decide. Usually, my mood determines what form my greatness will take.

When I turned the Romanians, I was most certainly evil. I was bored, tired of life. I knew the destruction they would wreak, and I longed for it. I longed for orgies, and violence, bloodshed and famine.

When I turned Joham, also, I knew him to be mad, even before his senses were heightened.

There have been others that fell on the side of good but as a general rule, they have not survived long.

Mostly they were_ too _good to ensure their own continuing existences, fell prey to the evil more often found in our kind.

Renesmee...I do not hope for either in her, an unusual twist for me. I long for a mate, in life, love.

She is strong enough.

And I want her.


End file.
